


Sabbats

by CarmillaofColdharbour



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Language, Some Explicit Language, Yennefer/Geralt - Freeform, mild NSFW
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:14:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22683058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmillaofColdharbour/pseuds/CarmillaofColdharbour
Summary: Retired in Toussaint, Geralt and Yennefer are looking to heal from the past. Yennefer turns to the sabbats celebrated by the witches of the past and by the mortals throughout the continent and asks Geralt to join. Fluff ensues.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 20
Kudos: 69





	1. Imbolc

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Sabbat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22786285) by [Kinailovestosleep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinailovestosleep/pseuds/Kinailovestosleep)



Geralt woke up to a cold and empty bed, next to a satin pillow that smelled of lilac and gooseberries. He sat up groggily, the cold of the floor crawling up his feet and legs. He ran his fingers through his white hair and stood to wrap his bathrobe around him. Yennefer had given him the brown fur robe and matching slippers for Yule. She had taken them to town herself to have the white wolf heads, lilacs, and gooseberries embroidered on the trim on the cuffs. And she had held such sweetness and hope in her eyes when he opened it. Geralt smiled warmly at the memory and walked out of their bedroom and in to the kitchen. The world outside the windows was dark, he figured he still had time before dawn. Casting Igni, he set the teakettle on the stove and waited.

He found Yennefer on the snowy ground, her black velvet dress wrapped under her knees, bare toes sticking out behind her, hands resting softly on her lap. Geralt smirked at the red of her toes, and his eyes meandered up to her face. How he adored her slightly crooked nose, and sharp chin. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks pink and rosy from the cold. The snowflakes fell and landed on her dark braided hair and Geralt paused to appreciate the moment.

“Thought you didn’t go in for these types of things,” he said. Yennefer opened her eyes and lifted her gaze to him, standing before grabbing the mug of tea from his outstretched hand. Geralt took a sip from his own cup.

“Before?” she started, “No. But in retirement? Yes. I think it will help me to find peace,” she turned to him, “can we talk about this in a moment? I was hoping to watch the sunrise.” Geralt smiled warmly and silently wrapped his arms around her waist. Kissing her shoulder he pulled her in close to him and together, they watched the rising sun peek over the horizon, bringing a soft blue and pink light to the world. Yennefer began to speak,

“As I was saying, celebrating the sabbats I think will help me to find peace. To bring myself closer to the Earth. For so long, Geralt, I have done nothing but work, risk, and take. My every day, my every moment has been consumed with being good enough, being powerful enough, strong enough, willing to push past pain and hurt to save the one’s I love, to save myself from persecution or death. So, now it is time for me to put that pain behind me. It is time to focus on my desires,” she turned in his arms so she could face him.

“Yen,” he brought his hand to her cheek softly.

“No, Geralt, not a child. I have a child, we have a daughter. Our Cirilla is all I have ever wanted. And honestly,” Geralt smiled as the red of her blush creeped up her neck and cheeks, “even if I managed to become fertile, the only man I want to make a child with is infertile himself,” Geralt relished the moment having only seen her blush a handful of times, if that.

“No, Geralt. Not children. It is time for me to go back to my roots, the beginning.”

“The Conjunction of the Spheres?”

“No, to the beliefs of the old days.”

“I thought you didn't believe in that stuff?”

“Well, perhaps I don’t believe in the existence of the Oak King, but I think the symbology is important. It’s where the humans first found magic in their world. It doesn’t need to make sense to you, but I need to do this. I need to find out who I am without this rage and sadness and worry. Who I am when I’m not scared. My magic has always come from my anger, hatred, rage, fear, pain. I want to be free of that, there is something else in me. I know it. I have felt it, felt it with Ciri, felt it with you,” she jabbed him in the chest with her finger. Geralt set his mug down and brought his hands to her cheeks and his forehead to hers.

“My sweet Yen, ” she smiled brightly through her tears, the sunlight illuminating her from behind so that her dark curls seemed to glow,

“Shh, witcher. As wonderful as those words would sound, I want to feel them.” So Geralt opened his mind to her. The snow fell softly on the couple, the pink-orange of the sunlight embracing them. And there they stayed, exchanging thoughts of love and ever after. 

* * *

“Couldn’t you use magic to do this?” he complained. Geralt had found himself sweeping ceilings, cleaning hard to reach windows, and polishing anything made of silver.

“Yes, of course I could, but that’s not the point,” Yennefer answered looking up from the bucket of water she was using to clean the floor. She returned to her scrubbing, “Spring cleaning must be done by us. It is a necessary part of the day, of the year! It connects us to the new beginnings that spring will bring and gives us a clean slate to begin the year with, it must be done with hard work, not magic.” Geralt eyed Yennefer, the sweat on her brow and breast, her hair in a bun, curls bursting out the sides of her bandana, red knees on the wood floor as she scrubbed.

“Geralt, get back to work,” he brought his eyes back to the grime of the sink.

“You know I hate when you do that,” he grumbled.

“Do what?”

“Read my mind.”

“I didn’t have to read your mind to know what you were thinking about, Geralt. Your drifting eyes said enough,” she chastised, dipping her rag into the bucket of water and sloshing it around.

“Oh,” he replied softly, apologetically, his scrubbing less furious.

“Although reading your mind did help, but how can you blame me? Your thoughts were practically screaming.” He turned to face her, a rebuttal readily equipped, but his words caught in his throat at her goofy grin and the sweet but mischievous glint in her eye. He would get her back later.

* * *

They sat at the dining room table, surrounded by the glowing light of about a dozen candles they had just made, the candles' sweet scent drifting over the scene, mixing with Yennefer’s perfume. She watched him work, watched the muscles in his arm flex as he turned the knife ever so carefully, watched the light dance off his silver hair that he had put up to keep out of his face, watched his yellow cat-eyes focus on the project in hand.

“I never took you for a craftsman,” Geralt looked up from the snake he had whittled from a fallen branch of oak near the stream to meet her purple doe-eyed expression.

“Well, you learn some things spending all that time alone in the woods.” He stopped his carving and looked to Yennefer’s poorly made wands that were spread out across the table. Sad and dried out branches with pathetically wrapped ribbon and crooked acorn tops.

“What are those for?”

“They’re a bit ghastly, aren’t they?” she sighed picking up one of the sadder ones. The ribbon wilted as if in protest of being picked up, “well, they’re meant to be priapic wands. They might look awful, but the kids will love them after I charm them to glow and sprout flowers.” Geralt chuckled getting back to his work,

“Can’t wait to see the neighbor’s faces when the kids are running around with glowing cocks.”

“Yes, well, they’re celebratory. And if Madame Vanessa,” Yennefer rolled her eyes violently, “so desperately wanted not to have them, she should not have alluded to the size of your trousers, in front of me. She’s lucky I didn’t turn her in to a toad right then and there. Oh damn!” Geralt looked up from his work again to see Yennefer’s brow creased in frustration, a sad excuse for a wand in her hand, glue falling off it in a suggestive manner. She flicked her wrist and small blue sparks came out of her hand, the wand twitched before the dry twig transformed into a hearty and oiled branch, its ribbon’s delicately braided and wrapped. Having corrected her mishap she smiled to herself and set it down with the other wands. Geralt switched his attention to the flowers he was carving and delicately detailed a petal.

“I don’t know why you’d make one when you have a perfectly good one right here," he said, "Especially one so well endowed, as the other towns-women have commented,” his eyes flickered to hers, and he could feel the purple lightning coming from them. He prepared for a portal, for the feeling of cold water and harsh winds as she, for the last time, dropped him in the middle of no where to truly and finally never be seen again. And then she was laughing and smiling, the sequins in her white lace collar reflecting the warm light surrounding them. She stood and kissed the top of his head. Geralt heard the sound of the teakettle on the stove,

“Watch yourself witcher. Lest I make flowers come out of yours,” he could hear the giggle in her warning and he smiled to himself. Outside the snow continued to fall, but the flames of the candles and the crack of the fireplace remedied any lingering sense of cold. Yennefer sat back down at the table.

“Now to make a particularly lewd one for Madame Vanessa, may she get splinters in her cunt.” Yennefer’s eyes flashed purple for a moment as she set to work. The magic in her hands began to swirl and Geralt chuckled warmly.

* * *

“Ooh! Miss Yennefer!” A child in red booties and a wool cloak pointed in the snow, “over there! There’s another flower over there!”

“Right you are!” Yennefer made her way over to the flower with the small child in tow. Together they leaned down to inspect it.

“What do you think? Should we use magic?”

“Yes! Yes!” the child cried.

“Right then! Watch yourself! Stand back!” The child stood next to Yennefer, his small hands on her thigh. Yennefer smiled down at him before lifting her hands high. A pink and green stream of light began to form around the plant as it grew a little bigger, a bud blooming. The child squealed in glee and ran off without so much as a thank you. Geralt made his way over to Yennefer, heavy feet trudging through the snow. Her black hair fell past her shoulders, white fur hood on her head, white dress with its black lace trim on the ground covering her fuzzy boots. His hands made their way around her waist and he began placing kisses on her neck and cheeks.

“Once again, I ask you, why would you use that spell on a plant when you could use it on me?” he said between kisses.

“And once again I ask you, why must you always turn innocent magic into something sexual?” she replied with a giggle as he continued to kiss her, he paused in his ministrations to look at her.

“I was happy to whittle my snakes and flowers, you’re the one who started making dirty wands.”

“They’re not dirty, they’re symbolic! They’re meant to remind us of the fertile loins of the Oak King, and how he’ll bring growth to the land. Oh fine, I suppose it is sexual,” she conceded, “but that doesn’t mean we’re doing anything! We’re out here to find signs that spring is returning.”

“Okay,” he said through kisses to her neck, “let’s go over there. I think I saw some flowers in that little secluded area.”

“Geralt,” she said through giggles as she playfully tried to push him away and he held her closer his kisses becoming more fervent, “Geralt! Stop now, we need to go find more flowers, or plants. We must find proof of growth!”

“I’ve got proof of growth for ya,” he growled in her ear. She laughed and hugged him warmly.

“I’ve never seen this side of you.” He held her close, his hands resting very chastely on her back.

“Well, maybe I want Imbolc to change me too. Come on, I really did see something over there, let’s go see what it is.” They walked hand in hand through the snow, feet cold and fingers near frozen, their hearts warmed and their eyes bright.

* * *

Geralt made his way in to their room to see Yen on the bed, her grimoire open at her side. He moved it carefully, meaning to set it down, but his name on paper caught his eye. He read her swooping font,

_It’s snowing today. Nice, really. It gives Geralt a lot of excuses to wrap his arms around me. I feel as though I’m supposed to push him away, but in truth, I love his embraces. We spent some time trying to groom Roach, but she wasn't having it. We triumphed eventually. Who knew it would take a witcher and a sorceress to groom a horse. We cleaned up her stable and gave her new hay, she seemed grateful. Today is Imbolc and Geralt and I are celebrating. But it’s more than a holiday. I plan to use these sabbats over the next year to reinvent myself. Well, maybe not reinvent myself, but to bring clarity to my life. Geralt and I have celebrated in almost every way possible. We watched the sun rise, made candles, looked for signs of spring, took care of Roach, cleaned the house, Geralt sharpened his weapons while I made Brigid crosses and bridey dolls with the towns children. The kids really enjoyed their wands! Geralt wont stop making jokes about priapices, but how can I blame him? It’s odd. We’ve known each other for so long, and yet we’ve never known each other like this. All the flirting and homemaking, perhaps this is what was meant for us. I’ve packed seeds away and made plans for a new segment of garden. All that’s left for today is bake something and ward the house._

_I’m so tired now, I’ve just cleansed and warded the house. Tissaia would tell me I’ve grown soft. Although, never before have I engaged in this type of magic. Always attack and shield, attack and shield, attack and shield. It was more emotionally draining than anything else. Which brings me to my last point before my nap, my pact with myself to rededicate myself to something. As winter draws to a close, it is time to think about new beginnings. I think the cleansing and warding was difficult not because of the magical energy expelled, or even the type of magic, but because I felt such love and sorrow, grief and gratuity. My Geralt, my Cirilla, they are both alive and well. Geralt and I are living in a home together, making love and making dinners, our days are safe and happy. The worst thing that happens to us is when a pot boils over. And I must say, that is all I have ever wished for. Triss says we’re boring, but I don’t care. We’re happy. I’m happy. For once, I am happy and content. And so, in the spirit of things, I am dedicating myself to my growth and my healing. And I rededicating myself to loving Geralt and Ciri. I have always loved them, yes, but never have I had the time to show them that. And finally, I write my affirmation for the rest of the year._

_I and the ones I love are safe and happy._

Geralt placed the book down on the bedside table and climbed in to bed to hold Yennefer close. As he wrapped his arms around her she made a soft and sweet noise, her fingers looking for his hand.

* * *

Geralt reached out from the tub to grab the plate of poppyseed and lemon cake and offered Yennefer a bite. She accepted and he smiled. The room was filled with the scent of bath salts and oils. Surrounding them were blocks of ice that glowed from within, Yennefer’s magic keeping them in crystal form.

“Geralt?”

“Hmm?” he mumbled through a stuffed mouth.

“Thank you for being with me today.” He offered her another bite of cake that she again, accepted.

“You need not thank me, Yennefer. This is all I’ve ever wanted.”

* * *

Geralt carefully placed her on the sheets and they both smiled in to their kisses. Geralt’s mouth traveled down her body, his hands aimlessly wandering, lost.

“I want you, Yen.” She giggled,

“I know, I can tell,” his kisses became more desperate and she laughed and smiled until his lips made contact with her own. And then she was engulfed by a pang in her chest, the need to have him closer, to show him how much she loved him, how grateful she was that he was with her. And together they found their way to a place they had never been before. To a place without pain, without heartache, or sorrow. To a place that had once been cold but, with the heat of their love, had begun to grow.


	2. Ostara

Yennefer awoke to sunlight streaming in through the window. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and let out a groan. 

“Damn,” she said groggily. 

“What?” Geralt mumbled, pulling her closer to his chest and burying his face in her mess of dark curls.

“No, Geralt,” she said tiredly, moving his hands from her stomach, he released her, “I’ve missed it, the sunrise. Today is Ostara!”

“Really?” he said with no effort to hide the sarcasm in his voice, as if she had not been talking about it for the past week. At the loss of her curtain of dark hair, he turned away from the sunlight to bury his face in the pillow.

“Oh shush,” she swatted his back playfully and sat up running her hands through her messy hair.

“Well,” he spoke in to the pillow, sleep in his voice, “if you’ve missed it, then we might as well stay in bed.”

“No, no. Absolutely not, you _know_ how eager I’ve been for today, don’t you?” She straddled him and with a tired grunt he turned around to look up at her. Long dark curls fell on to his pillow and face, Yennefer’s tiny hands made their way to either side of his head, a pleading expression on her face. The sunlight streamed through her hair and she seemed, to Geralt, to have come from a dream. Geralt rolled his eyes playfully and brought his fingers to her cheek to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, a warm expression lighting up his face.

“Never could say no to you, let’s get up.” She smiled and made her way off of him to walk in to the bathroom. Geralt sat up and watched her draw a bath and undress, leaving her clothes on the floor.

“Will you be joining me?” She said from the tub, her fingers rubbing soap in to her hair. Geralt smiled, stood from their bed, and removed his clothes.

“Ya,” he sunk in to the tub and Yennefer smiled handing him a sponge and turning her back to him. With a smile Geralt took the sponge.

“So,” he began, “what are we doing today?” Not even so much as a single scar littered her back, he knew there should be many.

“Well, I was hoping to bake something, pick wildflowers and whatnot. Oh! And of course there’s the gardening to do. Oh,” she faltered, “I suppose we should’ve bathed after that. Oh well, anyway, there’s gardening to attend to, I have some work I’d like to do regarding my magic. And!” she turned to face him, the water sloshing in the tub, a bright smile on her face, “I don’t expect you to come if you’d rather not, but we’ve been invited to the square this evening to the bonfire, and I was asked to tell the story of the Hare and the Egg to the children and then they were going to dye eggs.” She showed him her back once more and he smiled, getting back to work.

“Of course I’ll come with you,” he could sense her smile, “but I’ll not wear a doublet.” She chuckled.

* * *

They stood at the stove, Yen’s finger to the cookbook she held, Geralt behind her, his eyes following her finger as she scanned the page, and he tried to tune out her whispers as she read.

“This is infuriating!” Yennefer said before slamming the book closed with one hand, her eyes flashing purple, “We’ve tried this twice now! How could it be so hard to make some damnable hot cross buns?!” she sighed and leaned back against the counter with a pout on her lips that made Geralt smirk. He made his way to her, his flour covered, frizzy haired sorceress.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad. We can go in to town, I’m sure they’re selling them today.”

“Oh yes, and give Madame Vanessa the satisfaction of knowing I can’t bake worth a damn. That’s why she gave me this book, isn’t it? That damnable woman, does she know I’ve killed people?” Geralt chuckled.

“Never known you to care about old towns-women,” he smirked and leaned back against the counter opposite her.

“Yes, well, Geralt, you forget, I’m about fifty years her senior, aren’t I? And with my days of politics over, am I not an old towns-woman myself?” He smiled and looked at the hot cross buns.

“Well, they’re not terrible. I think things went well, all things considered.”

“Geralt, what are you on about? You call that well?” she motioned to the mess of bowls and flour, two sets of hot cross buns burnt to a crisp, “perhaps well done,” she offered, ignoring his playful smirk. She moved from her spot and past him to grab one of the buns,

“Look at this? They’re like rocks,” she picked one of the sad black buns and knocked it against the counter, pieces of charred breadcrumb falling on to the floor. Geralt smiled and grabbed her tiny wrists pulling her over to him and settling her hands around the back of his neck.

“We could always keep them for Yule, to put in the kids’ stockings. I know you have a list of all the naughty ones.”

“Geralt!” she chastised with a sad whine, giving his chest a playful slap, before settling her hands back around his neck. He leaned down to kiss her nose sweetly and her expression softened. She leaned back to eye the sad, burnt, hot-cross buns.

“Well, I suppose Madame Vanessa wins this time,” she said somberly, a pouty sigh escaping her mouth.

“Not if I’m judging. Got the best buns in all of Toussaint right here,” his hands had sneaked to her rear and he gave it an affectionate squeeze.

“Geralt!” she reprimanded.

“See, you’re cross too,” he smirked sweetly and she folded her arms with a glare. He stared her over with a bored expression, his eyes carefully searching hers.

“Alright, alright,” he reached over her to grab the book she had slammed shut and opened it once more, leaving her side to begin working on the recipe again. She stared intently at him and he ignored her heated glare as he added flour to the bowl, checking and double checking the recipe. Yennefer turned away from him and began to clean the flour off the counter in silence.

“Later?” Geralt heard her small voice offer. He smiled broadly, adding egg to the mixture and wiping his hands on the towel next to him. He nodded, his eyes still on his work,

“Later,” he agreed. At that moment Yennefer yiped and rubbed where he had pinched her, looking at him with an incredulous expression that morphed into a smile. Geralt’s eyes stayed trained on the bowl and book in front of him,

“Definitely later,” he said with a smile.

* * *

Yennefer ripped a weed from the ground and wiped the sweat off her brow with her white sleeve, fixing her hair under the straw hat.

“You know,” he began, knees in the dirt, eyes on her as she pulled another weed from the plot next to his, “you’re very soft.”

“Oh, now don’t let anyone hear you say that,” she joked, ripping a weed up from the roots. Geralt placed a seed in the ground and watered it.

“I mean it,” he dug another hole, “you’re tough and cunning, you’ve a quick wit, and I wouldn’t wish your wrath on my enemies,” that earned him a chuckle, “but you’re also spectacularly soft. You’re soft with Ciri, now more so than when she was a child of course, and you’re soft with the kids around town,” she scoffed.

"Well of course. I was only tough on Ciri because it was important that she learn and learn quickly,” she pulled up another weed.

“I know, but, well, I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s nice to see this side of you. I always kinda thought it was there,” Geralt had made his way next to her aiding in her quest to rid the flowerbed of weeds, “but it’s nice to see you,” he paused looking for the right word.

“Change?” she offered with a pointed look.

“No, not at all,” he smiled eyes on the soil, “I was gonna say bloom.” At that she blushed, her eyes growing big, she focused on her work once more, yanking weeds out with fervor. Geralt chuckled and returned to his work.

“Well, thank you, Geralt. I,” she faltered, “I suppose I just never had the time to be softer,” she had slowed considerably and reminded Geralt vaguely of a young woman pulling petals off a flower saying _he loves me, he loves me not_ , “I felt that there was so much demanded of me, and there _was._ So there was just no time for not getting what I needed, but now, well,” she looked at him and he met her with a soft expression, “now things are better.”

“True, things are much better,” he agreed. They were silent for a moment before Geralt spoke once more,

“So, why are we doing this? I mean, I don’t mind this kind of labor, but I can’t recall the last time I saw you with dirty nails, let alone in the dirt and sun, on your hands and knees.”

“Really? I thought the afternoon had been rather memorable,” she smirked and he chuckled.

“I’d not forgotten about that, although, I don’t recall you using too much of your hands,” he looked at her with a sweet and playful expression and she responded in kind, before the two went back to pulling weeds.

“Well, Ostara, at its core celebrates the balance between day and night. Today, as it will be on the autumnal equinox, there are equal amounts of light and darkness.”

“That still doesn’t explain the gardening,” he continued to weed as she had moved on to trimming some of the other plants.

“Be patient, Geralt, let me explain. It is also a time to celebrate births. Ostara is the name of a fertility goddess, who in other stories goes by the name Eostre. And she is the maiden aspect of the triple goddess.”

“And the triple goddess is…”

“She is the wife and mother, don’t ask me how, of the Oak King and the Holly King, who are both brothers and the same man, the green man.”

“Right, okay.”

“So at this time, the goddess Ostara, or Eostre, brings life and fertility to the land, and it is a time of great and growing energy where the hopes from Imbolc become action. It is common to tend to a garden at this time of year. Whether it be a mental garden, or a literal garden, we work to celebrate the fertility of land, and life, the renewal and births, and the return of the light to the world. Well,” she stood, “I feel as though I’ve done enough gardening for today, what do you think, are we quite through?” Her dirty hands rested on her hips and she looked down at Geralt who was crouched in the dirt. He stood,

“Ya, sounds good to me.”

“Alright then, to the river? To wash off?”

“Lead the way.”

* * *

Yennefer lay on the red blanket they had set by the stream, her shoes discarded and black dress with its small delicately embroidered white, lace flowers hiked up around her thighs. Geralt was walking back to her, an eager smile on his face, he too having discarded his boots and rolled up his pants and the sleeves of his white shirt.

“What are you smiling about? What do you have behind your back?” She asked turning from her book of shadows and to him. He knelt down next to her feigning a look of great importance.

“My lady, my most gracious majesty,” he mocked the knights of Toussaint, “I have found your missing crown,” Geralt revealed the daisy crown he had made for her, its bright flowers showing themselves off to her. Behind him, the grass swayed and the stream gurgled softly.

“I thank you good knight for your act of chivalry,” she made a symbol with her fingers and upon Geralt’s head grew a crown of bright flowers.

“Now, lie with me and watch the clouds, my brave knight.” Geralt lay next to her, extending his arm so that she could rest on it. She smiled and cozied herself up to him, resting a leg on his lap and together they watched the clouds.

* * *

“Geralt?” she fussed with the white collar of her dress, “do you have the eggs?”

“Yes, I’ve got the eggs.”

“And the lemon cakes?”

“Yes, I have the eggs, the lemon cakes, the flower crowns, and the stuffed toys.”

“Right, wonderful,” she turned from the mirror to kiss him, “thank you. Shall we go?”

“I’m ready if you are.” He picked up their items and she grabbed a few herself, stopping before opening the front door she turned to look him over.

“You look,” she began, Geralt interrupted rolling his eyes.

“We went over this in the bath this morning, I will not wear a doublet.”

“Well, if you would have listened, instead of interrupting,” she touched the collar of his shirt affectionately, “I was going to say you look rather dashing.” Geralt smiled warmly before speaking,

“Thank you,” Yennefer smiled back and turned to open the front door.

“You know, I know you hate portals, but wouldn’t it just be easier to use one right now?”

“No, absolutely not,” he began placing the items in the back of their cart, “anyway, I think the cart will do fine.”

“Oh yes,” she said, stepping up to sit on the cart, “no better way to travel than by a rickety cart. Ugh, by the time we get there I’ll have a bruised ass.” Geralt made his way up with her and grabbed the reins.

“It’s not all that bad, you can sit on my lap.”

“Oh yes, that’s a plan,” she rolled her eyes and lifted an arm as if it would help her make her point, “Bumpy ride and such, we’ll never get there. No, no. I’ll sit on the wood, thank you.” Geralt swallowed the joke on his lips and placed the blanket he had been holding under his arm on the bench so that she could sit on it. She looked up at him with a smile and stood, unfolding it so that there was room enough for two. He smiled and they sat on the slightly more comfortable seats. Geralt spurred on the horses and Yennefer cuddled close to him,

“We really should get a new cart though. I don’t know why we haven’t, we have the funds.”

“Whatever you say, Yen,” he put a hand on her knee tenderly.

“So you’re really gonna let the sit-on-wood joke, go?” He laughed heartily and turned his head to kiss her. 

* * *

“So the hare, being the poorest of the animals set out to find the most wondrous gift she could find to give to Lady Ostara of the moon,” Geralt chuckled to himself, watching as a little magic hare made of light, danced around the laughing children peering into their ears and checking their hair, “but alas,” Yennefer spoke, “there was no wonderful gift to be found. So the hare returned home and opened the cupboard to find it bare except for one single egg. The hare tirelessly went about making the egg beautiful so that it would be worthy of Lady Ostara of the Moon,” the hare made of magic and light began to work on painting the egg at a magical little desk.

“All of the animals of the animal kingdom brought the Lady Ostara such wonderful gifts, and so the hare, who was last in line humbly bestowed the colored egg to Lady Ostara. And Lady Ostara told the hare that her gift was most precious, not only was it beautiful, but because the hare had given all she had to give. And thus the hare became Lady Ostara’s creature.” Yennefer smiled as the magic hare began to fly in to the sky to meet the moon. The kids smiled and Yennefer stood smiling back at them as they clutched their stuffed toy hares and wiped the crumbs from their lemon cakes on to the ground.

* * *

Geralt opened the door to the house and Yennefer walked in to the kitchen taking a pot out from its cabinet.

“Geralt, darling, would you like some warm milk?” she called out

“No thank you,” he called back. Yennefer added herbs to the pot of milk on the stove, stirring it slowly. Geralt made his way in to the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her.

“Have I told you how lovely you look tonight?” Yennefer giggled,

“Your compliments never disappoint, Geralt,” she turned her head toward him and kissed his chin.

“I mean it, if you were Lady Ostara, I would make my way to the moon for you, give you all I had in return for nothing but your presence.”

“Geralt,” she touched his face tenderly and he brought his hand to hers, pressing it softly against his cheek and lips.

“Now, what is this?” he asked. Yennefer turned to the hot pot of milk and Geralt rested his chin on her shoulder.

“You can’t smell it?”

“I can, but there are a lot of other herbs in here. Let me guess, though, lavender and,” he paused to sniff the air again, “chamomile?”

“Yes, you’ve guessed it.”

“Hmm, sounds good.”

“It is,” she agreed as she stirred it slowly.

“So, I know you said you wanted to focus on your magic today. Have you been able to?”

“I did want to, and I have. It’s a very simple, old, and powerful technique called grounding. And, I’ve discovered something interesting.”

“Well, what’s grounding?”

“It’s a way of tapping in to the energy of the Earth. Think of the Earth as a source of great and unlimited power. Grounding is a way of sharing energy with the Earth so as to not have to use your own energy when casting a spell.”

“Isn’t that kind of what you do with magic anyway? You know, with the plants and stuff?”

“Sort of, the difference here is that you work to balance your energy, not steal. It doesn’t damage or kill anything to take it. And it’s a different, more purposeful type of magic. It’s not exactly useful in say, combat,” he watched her continue to stir her milk, “but let’s say you want to ward a space or heal someone, then it can be incredibly useful. So today, while you were out making my daisy crown I worked on grounding.”

“Alright, then what was the interesting thing you discovered?”

“Well, while I was grounding, I had this very interesting experienced, my magic felt different. As I’ve told you before, my magic has always been fueled by anger, fear, resentment, power, and so on, but this felt so odd, Geralt. I felt all of those emotions drain from me, it was, how should I say this?” she had turned her head to look at him, “give me a moment, Geralt, this is done.” She snuffed the flames of the stove and poured the milk into a mug before making her way in to the living room and sitting on the sofa. Geralt followed, sitting across from her, her feet in his lap.

“Where was I?”

“You said you felt something different?”

“Oh! Yes,” she took a sip of her drink and Geralt lazily ran his thumb over her small ankles, “it was like, like,” she paused again to think, “like an exchange. I was giving the Earth my painful energy, and it was almost as if it was transforming it into something neutral to give back to me. It felt so different, Geralt. I’ve never experienced something quite like it,” she placed her empty mug on the side table next to them.

“Well that’s good then, yes?” His hands had made their way to her calves, rubbing from her knee down to her feet and toes.

“Yes,” she said with a smile, “it is good. It felt nice to perform magic in a different way, and to feel different as I did it. It felt, very natural,” she closed her eyes in appreciation of his warm hands on her skin.

“Well, I’m glad things are going well, Yen.”

“Thank you, Geralt,” she said with a smile, her eyes still closed. Geralt placed a sweet kiss on her ankle and moved to climb over her and place himself behind her. She nestled up against him and he wrapped his arm around her middle, pulling her close.

“What are you up to, Geralt?” he could hear the smirk in her sleepy voice.

“Nothing Yen, I just want to be close to you.” There was no lie in his voice, or even in his head as she probed his thoughts.

“What happened to later?” she asked.

“Later can be later,” he replied with a sleepy grumble. Yennefer turned around to press herself close to him and wrap her leg around his thigh.

“What are you doing, Yen?” he said with a smile, his own eyes having closed as well.

“Just trying to be close to you too.” He smiled and nuzzled his head in her neck inhaling the scent of her hair. His hand ran under her dress to find its resting place on her thigh. She sighed contentedly and he kissed her neck chastely. Geralt moved his other arm to place it under Yennefer’s head so he could run his hands over her dark hair. The sounds of birds and crickets filled the quiet room, and the light of the moon came through the window, resting softly on the sleeping couple.


	3. Beltane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: sexual content, cursing

There had not been a more beautiful night in Toussaint since the night of yesterday, of course. Bright stars littered the sky, cicadas and birds chirped from their homes in the dark, the scent of night blooming flowers drifted through the crowd of dancers and lovers, and the music played loudly for all to hear. For it was the night of Beltane! A night for love, fire, and passion. Yennefer smiled and laughed as Geralt spun her around, her white gown fluttering above her legs. Geralt pulled her closer, his hands making their way up the bottom of her thin white sundress as he kissed her fiercely, a fire in his belly. The couple pulled apart with a smile, and as they danced, and the bonfires grew in height, the two of them wiped sweat off their brows. With their shoes laying discarded, somewhere in the grass, they reveled in the way the ground felt cold and damp under their feet. A welcome contrast to the roaring heat of the fires around them, of the heat of each others hands, and the electrifying energy that danced in the earth below them and up into their limbs. Yennefer looked at Geralt, hoping to find something to anchor her to the world and simmer down the buzzing energy that coursed through her, but instead found herself lost. Lost in the way the firelight danced in his golden eyes, lost in the way it reflected off his silver-white hair and long nose, lost in his warm smile and gentle touch. She stopped her movements and Geralt looked at her with a concerned expression,

“Yen?” She grabbed his left hand and with her right produced a thin gold ring.

“I know you’re not one to be tied to one place, and maybe not even to one person, but,” she offered the ring to him on her open palm, “if only for a year and a day?” she said, her eyes large and questioning. Geralt reached out, closing her fingers over the ring and Yennefer’s expression sank at the rejection.

* * *

**Earlier that day**

Yennefer blinked in the light of the sun coming through the bedroom window, yellow and warm upon the red sheets. She yawned and turned in to Geralt’s warm body, sleepily, he pulled her closer.

“Geralt?”

“Hm?” he grunted, his eyes still closed.

“What time is it?” Geralt opened one eye to peek through the window before burying his face in his pillow.

“A little after noon by the looks of it.”

“Mmm,” she responded unenthusiastically. Yennefer turned away from Geralt to lay her head on her pillow and stare at the ceiling, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She yawned, her eyes drifting to the window and the sight it offered of Toussaint. Its rolling, grassy hills; bright, fragrant flowers; and blue, cloudless sky, she sighed contentedly. Geralt reached out for her hand and brought her wrist to his lips, she turned to look at him and he smiled warmly.

“Merry Beltane and happy birthday, Yen.” She smiled as he released her wrist.

“Thank you, Geralt, merry Beltane to you as well,” she groaned as she sat up, running a hand through her dark curls, moving them out of her eyes, “although, I suppose, technically, it starts at sundown, so we’ve a few hours left.”

“We’ve more than a few hours,” he commented with a smirk.

“Whatever shall we do with them?” she asked. He chuckled and sat up next to her, pulling his own hair back in to a messy knot.

“I’ll go start your tea.”

“Oh Geralt, you know me so well.” He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and stood. Yennefer stretched, her long, black, chiffon nightgown moving with her as she made her way to the window and took in a deep breath of sweet smelling air and stared at a luscious, green, and bountiful Toussaint.

* * *

“Is the tea not to your liking?” Geralt asked, eyeing her still full cup of tea.

“Oh yes, I mean, no, no. It’s quite good, thank you, Geralt.” He sat across from her and began to eat his sausage and eggs.

“What’s on your mind, Yen?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she gave him a small smile.

“You’ve been staring a hole in to that wall for the last five minutes, what’re you thinking about?” He took another bite of his food and Yennefer looked down at her tea, magic coming out of her finger to swirl her spoon around in her cup.

“Did you know, in times of old, it was believed that you stirred your liquid clockwise to invoke positivity and counter-clockwise to banish negativity.” He eyed her spoon,

“And is there negativity you need to banish?” the spoon stopped moving and she looked from the tea cup and to him.

“No, I just, I,” she faltered, “I’m old Geralt. I’m one-hundred-and-four and look at me,” she motioned to herself, “I’ve just, I’ve been the same me for over a century.”

“Yes, and what’s wrong with that?”

“Well,” her eyes wandered back to the cup. She picked the spoon up again and began to stir, “nothing. I just, you know, I spent so much, I gave up so much to have the body I have, the life I have, and well, it’s done wonderful things for me. I have Ciri, and you,” she looked up at him with a warm expression, but then back at the cup, “but I’ve just,” she faltered once more, “nothing has changed, and in the times of politics and wars and leagues and chapters and groups and covens and enemies,” she gave a great sigh, “it was all well and good to stay the same and look the same. One less thing to worry about honestly, but now that I’ve, now that we’ve,” she corrected, “retired, I just, I want to let go a little.”

“How do you mean?” he asked, sipping his coffee. 

"I just, nothing changes, the world moves around me, and I am stuck in the past. I look the same, I feel the same. Each year, Beltane passes and I have been alive for another year, but at the end of each year you are older, Ciri is older. Ciri may live long, but she is unlikely to outlive me. You have lived a long time, and if Vesemir is any clue as to how old a witcher can get, you will spend many more years with me, but you will still grow old. There will come a time when we are separated and I am alone.” Geralt chuckled as he sipped his coffee,

“Well this is a nice birthday breakfast, I ought to make sure Ciri is invited next year.”

“Geralt! I’m being serious!” He gave her a grin and a small chuckle,

“And so am I. Yen, what you’re talking about, it’s years away. Many, many years away. And who knows what will happen in the meantime,” he reached out for her hand, “just focus on the moment you're in. Now, about the need for a change, I think I can help there.” Geralt stood and walked away from the table and up the stairs to the spare guest room. Yennefer watched as he came down the stairs holding a box wrapped in cream colored paper and a thin lavender ribbon.

“I was gonna save this for tonight, but I think it might be best to start with it instead.” Yennefer quirked her eyebrow at him, moving her cup aside as he set the box on the table. She stood and removed the ribbon and paper.

“And what is this?” she said, lifting the top of the box to expose neatly folded white fabric. Yennefer took hold of the white fabric and removed it from the box to reveal an off-white sundress with light green, fabric buttons down the bodice and a satin purple sash around the middle.

“Geralt,” she looked up at him with a large smile, “you didn’t!”

“If you don’t like it, we can go get you something in black.” She laughed

“I was merely joking,” she said with a giggle recalling their conversation by the river about the raging heat of Toussaint and its effect on her dark wardrobe and comfort, “I’ll feel awfully odd wearing something that isn’t black and white.”

“It’s off white, it’s a start. Seamstress kept bothering me about adding more color, but I insisted we not. And it’s a good thing too, took a damn long time to finally find the dye that made the right lilac color.”

“Lilac? Oh Geralt, and gooseberries?” She looked down at the green buttons, seeing that they did in fact resemble the small green berries.

“Do you like it? If not, like I said, we can get you something different.”

“Geralt, I love it. Really, I do. Thank you,” she put a small hand to his cheek and nudged him down so she could kiss him. He complied with a smile.

“Don’t forget the perfume,” he said, handing her a small vial.

“Perfume?” she opened the bottle and gave it a sniff and then laughed once more, “daisies and turnips!”

“Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to wear it.” She smiled and gently placed her gifts down, grabbing Geralt’s hands to bring her closer.

“Thank you, Geralt, these are lovely and very thoughtful.” 

* * *

The Beauclair market bustled, and all around people were demanding their orders for wine be filled as they chose sweet cakes and fruit, women shopped for dresses and flower crowns and in the distance, on the hills, Geralt could see the wood for bonfires being collected and piled as the maypoles were erected. Yennefer sipped the rest of her cold drink and leaned back in the metal chair. A server came by to refill her glass and adjust the umbrella above them, keeping them in the shade. 

"Thank you," Yennefer said to the server who nodded and walked away. Geralt smiled at her large gathering of curly hair under her white sunhat, her eyes cheery as they scanned the market.

“So,” he began, "I’m aware of what Beltane is, obviously,” he took a bite of his meal, “but what else should I know about this sabbat?”

“Oh, well," she shifted in her seat to face him, "As you know, Beltane is a fire festival that celebrates the union of the Oak King, who you’ll recall is both his own brother and father as well as son and husband of his wife the May Queen who, at this time takes up her role as both the maiden and the mother aspect of the Triple Goddess, it’s all rather convoluted. Their union, according to lore, occurs after their wedding and is when the Oak King conceives, with his wife, himself. Some people see it as literal, others see it as a symbolic transformation, which is the understanding I personally stand by. And as you have seen in the past, this fire festival is celebrated by lighting bonfires, dancing around the may pole, which of course represents the union of the king and queen on their wedding night, and spending the night in the arms of a stranger, or a lover. Oftentimes, people go a-maying," Geralt scoffed through a mouth full of food. 

"Is that what they call it? "

"Yes Geralt, shush."

"Why don't they just call it what it is? It's just fucking outside." She glared at him. 

"What? Making love outside? I don't know why people can't be satisfied with a normal bed, honestly."

"Geralt, it is my birthday. We are not discussing the unicorn. Now stop interrupting. As I was saying before, those are common ways we see the holiday celebrated, but one might also see and expect marriages of a year and a day. When couples jump over the broom. Those wouldn't be uncommon. And of course, there are handfasting ceremonies,” she paused, “that of course depends on where you are on the continent. Usually on Skellige. But wherever you are, this sabbat is meant to focus on sexuality, vitality, joy, and passion. It is, symbolically and literally, a time for conception.” Geralt nodded,

“I see. And how will this apply to your practices? Your magic?”

“I’ll admit, I’m not quite sure. People sometimes engage in sex magic. Which is done by using the height of the sexual encounter to charge the spell, instead of the energy around you. You see, the orgasm,” he interrupted.

“I think I get it.” She grinned at him and sipped her drink.

“But to answer your question Geralt, I have yet to decide how I will find myself in this sabbat. For now, as you suggested this morning, I plan on enjoying my birthday and all the lovely gifts you've gotten for me.” She looked down at the bags near their feet, bags filled with expensive wine, gowns, shoes, a mother of pearl comb and brush, a leather notebook and colored inks, new jewelry, and some pastries.

"Well, if you feel like engaging in sex magic," he began. 

"Yes, yes, I know, I'll be sure to find someone else." Geralt smirked and reached over to pinch her side with a chuckle, taking her hand in his on his way back. She smiled and gave his fingers a small squeeze, "Oh Geralt. Is that Madame Vanessa? I ought to go speak with her." Geralt rolled his eyes. 

"About what?"

"The gifts you got me," Yennefer said plainly. 

"Why?" 

"Well to show off, of course. You know, _her_ husband," Geralt raised his eyebrows, lowering them quickly before she noticed. Yennefer continued, "not only forgot her birthday, but when he had a gown ordered to apologize, it came in _completely_ the wrong size."

"Alright, what's wrong with that? That kind of mistake happens a lot."

"Well, yes, but _not_ at Pierre's! The rumor is the seamstress thought he was ordering another gown for his mistress. Oh look, she's wearing it now. Refuses to have it altered." Geralt looked at the woman's dress. 

"Jeez, Yen. That's terrible." The dress looked to be made of different sets of patchwork quilts sewn together with golden embroidery thread, too long and too short, the dress pinched in places and sagged in others, all in places it ought not to. 

"I know. Broke my heart to see Pierre's talent go to waste making that gown, but to see that woman walk around town in that," she paused searching for the right word, "that thing." Geralt turned to Yennefer and scoffed giving her a disapproving look. 

"I ought to have known it was you."

"It was my birthday gift, to myself."

"Uh-huh," Geralt rolled his eyes. Yennefer stood and smoothed her gown before leaning down to give him a searing kiss. She pulled away with a smug grin. 

"Is that for show?" he asked her with a cocked eyebrow. 

"Naturally," she affectionately tucked a stray strand of his hair behind his ears, "but also, not in the slightest." She picked up the bags of gifts and turned to walk toward Madame Vanessa. Geralt smiled to himself, shaking his head. When she was far enough away and deep enough into conversation with Madame Vanessa, Geralt took a sip of his drink. _Her_ husband, Geralt thought. She had enunciated _'her,'_ is that how Yennefer thought of him? Was it a comparison? _Her_ husband. Geralt flagged the waiter down, paid for their meals, and began the short walk to the jeweler. 

* * *

Yennefer thanked the courier and paid him before opening the letter.

“Geralt?” she called out, her eyes scanning the letter, “Geralt?” he lay on the sofa on the patio, a glass of sparkling liquid in one hand, a plate of crumbs in front of him.

“Hmm?” he answered as she walked over to him, sitting down beside him.

“A letter from Ciri!”

“What’s it say?” he grabbed a handful of grapes from the bowl Yennefer had brought with her from inside the house and began to eat them. Yennefer unfolded the letter and began to read.

“Dear Geralt and Yennefer, I hope this letter finds you both well and happy. I thank you for the birthday wishes you sent with Dandelion, and I must say, I thank you even more for the birthday gifts you gave. The cloak is wonderful and has kept me warm, when the ale isn’t that is. Don’t give me that look Yennefer, I can see it on your face now as I write this,” Yennefer laughed and Geralt looked up at her with a grin.

“She’s got you pinned, Yen.”

“Indeed she does. The letter goes on,” she began reading again, “Geralt, I thank you for the new saddle. You’d think, being able to travel through space and time, I wouldn’t need a horse, but well, Geralt, you’ll understand this, there’s just nothing like the Path. The way the sun sets on the lakes, the way the breeze feels near the ocean, the way the woods smell on a sunny day, or even the stench of a trophy on your horse,” Geralt sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes. Yennefer looked up from the letter and to Geralt. 

“Do you miss it?” 

“I do."

"Well that was a quick answer. I rather thought you enjoyed retirement."

"I do, I just, I miss the freedom of it. It’s well, it’s not my nature to stay in one place at a time. It’s rather odd to wake up in a bed each day. I suppose I miss the variety,” he opened his eyes and reached out to lovingly pinch her chin, “but I rather enjoy this too.” Yennefer smiled and returned to the letter,

“Where were we?" she scanned the letter, "Ah, yes. And so with my thanks I also wish you a happy birthday, Yennefer! Geralt, be sure to give my mother as wonderful a gift as she deserves, for she so deserves the best," Geralt opened one eye to see Yennefer wipe away a single tear as she continued to read, "I hope to see you both soon. Dandelion and Zoltan send their love and regards from Novigrad, Cerys from Skellige, and well, so does nearly everyone else. All I ever do is hear about you both. How much everyone misses you, how much they want to see you, or don’t want to see you. Ha! You’ve both quite the reputation. Anyway, I miss you both terribly, and again, hope to see you soon. I was thinking of wintering in Toussaint with the two of you? Whatever happens, I know we will see each other when it is our time. My love to you both, your daughter, Ciri.” Yennefer smiled and sat against the sofa, Geralt wrapped a hand around her waist pulling her close to him, leaning over to rest his head in her lap. Yennefer sighed and leaned her head back, her hand running over Geralt’s hair. She looked down at him with a pensive expression. Perhaps it would not be old age that took him from her after all. If the world called to him, the Path, she would not keep him from it.

* * *

The bonfires raged under the starry night sky and Yennefer stood in front of Geralt, ring in her palm.

“If only for a year and a day?” she said, her eyes large and questioning. Geralt reached out, closing her fingers over the ring. Tears welled in Yennefer’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She watched, confused, as Geralt fished a hand around in one of his pockets and brought out a small ring, this one was gold and decorated with small floral designs. Geralt grabbed Yennefer’s hand and her eyes shot up from the ring and to him.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he said with a smile. Geralt placed the gold band on her thin finger, and unfurled her closed palm to take the gold ring she offered him.

* * *

Two bonfires stood on opposite sides of them, and hand in hand, Geralt and Yennefer held the floral crowns on their head as they jumped over the broomstick. The surrounding crowd cheered and the priestess spoke.

"I now declare Yennefer of Vengerberg and Geralt of Rivia, married! May the gods bless your union!" The priestess smiled at the couple, lifting her finger to the sky shooting out sparks that erupted in to fireworks. Geralt turned pulling Yennefer close to him to draw her in for a kiss. Once again, the crowd cheered. Pulling apart, his eyes met hers, glowing bright and violet, tears falling to meet her perfectly crooked lips. A large smile rested on his face. The music and song and dance made its way through the air, the energy electrifying, and the firelight from the bonfires competing with the stars.

“Oh, I rather like that thought, witcher," Yennefer said. And with an even wider grin, he pulled her away. The crowd cheered and danced in the firelight as the two, laughing as they did so, made their way atop the hill to get lost in each others arms.

* * *

Geralt leaned her up against the tree, hiking her skirts up so he could press his fingers to her hips, his lips on her neck, trailing down to her collar bone and making their way back up to meet her mouth. Yennefer’s hands lost themselves in Geralt’s hair and he removed his from under her dress so they could rest softly against her cheeks as he placed kisses on her chin and mouth, cheeks and nose. 

“Wife,” he said between kisses.

“Husband,” she answered with a warm smile, leaning into his palm. He pulled away from her with a grin.

“Husband,” he repeated, “wife. Husband and wife.” She smiled at the joy radiating from his being. Like light and fire, it seemed to sizzle and crack around him. Geralt's eyes caught the glint of the ring on his hand that was warmed by the heat of her cheek and found himself suddenly being hit with a pang of affection. For how long had they suffered, for how long had they fought, for how long had they run and worried. And now she stood before him, beautiful and wondrous under the dark and beauty of the night, lit by the raging fires behind them. To him, she glowed, magnificent in her strength and resolve, power and kindness, with a heart that felt too much, and eyes that had seen such pain. With careful hands he untied the laces of her bodice and unbuttoned the front of her gown to place a kiss between her breasts. Resting his head against the spot, his nose pressed against her, he inhaled the scent of lilac and gooseberries and listened to the beating of her heart.

“Geralt?” He stood straight to find tears running down her face as she sensed each thought and feeling. He wiped the tears from her cheek with a soft smile,

“My May Queen, in the night of late spring, I lose myself in my affection for you. And come winter, your influences have changed me for the better and I am born anew. I adore you Yennefer, and I always always will.”

“Geralt, I, I,” she stuttered, tears still dancing in her eyes, and his lips found hers. The kiss was soft and slow, sweet, like honey. And as the stars moved across the night sky, Geralt’s hands once again began to make their way across her skin, pulling her gown to the ground and removing his own clothing so that the two of them could lay in the soft grass, bodies entwined. And each touch felt not like a spark or a flame, but like the quiet rain that travels the globe, never dying, just reborn in each moment that it falls. Yennefer let out a soft moan and Geralt moved from where he had positioned himself between her thighs, kissing her hips and bringing himself back up to face her.

“The taste of you makes me dizzy,” he said breathily. She beamed,

“And what do I taste like?” He smiled warmly, his hot breath on her neck.

“Mmm, I’m not sure. It’s just you, all of you, I can’t explain it,” he lazily dragged his fingers up her sides, “you’ve bewitched me. You make me lose myself.”

“Stand witcher,” he did as instructed, and she pushed him against the tree, falling to her knees, “lose yourself with me.” He smiled and ran a hand through her hair, a hand falling softly to her cheek before his grip tightened into a fist and rested against the wood of the tree as she took him in her mouth. A few minutes passed and she spoke, 

"See, now as much as you complain about not being in a bed," she began. 

"Yen," he groaned, and she chuckled softly, "please, you keep going and I'll never mention the unicorn again." 

* * *

As dawn broke, the couple watched, holding one another close under the blanket Yennefer had produced.

“Did you ever think we would be here?” Geralt asked.

“I only dared to dream of it.” He smiled at her response.

"So, I was thinking, it would be nice to have Ciri winter with us."

"I agree," she said, leaning against his shoulder. Geralt looked at their joint hands, rings shining in the light of day. 

“You know, I think this was what she always wanted for us, to end up together like this.” 

“Who? Ciri?" Yennefer looked down at their rings, "I think so too. Do you think this was destiny, Geralt? Fate? That we would be together?” The sun was beginning to make its way higher into the sky.

“Mmm,” he contemplated, “I’m not sure. Destiny and fate, what’s it matter, really? I’d choose you in any lifetime.”

“And I you, Geralt.” The sun continued its crawl away from the horizon, and oranges and pinks littered the sky. A warm wind whistled through the trees and danced in the rolling Toussaint hills. Flowers began to open and Geralt and Yennefer sat together, blissfully happy.


	4. Litha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer and Geralt enjoy the first day of summer.

The light of the moon and the sound of cicadas and crickets came through the window and Yennefer blinked tiredly, her mind still foggy and her eyes heavy with sleep. Geralt placed kisses on her neck, sleepily, and without much form or direction. His hands pulled her closer, gripping softly at her sides, his eyes still shut in partial slumber. She turned to him, lips sloppily meeting his chin and bottom lip, her aim off in the midst of her own fight against sleep. A soft hum escaped her mouth and he copied her with a smile as as she ran a hand through his hair trying to grip it between her fingers, but she found it difficult as drowsiness overtook her, making her motions languid and her hand feel heavy. Geralt’s fingers pulled at her shirt, fumbling in the dark as he attempted to move it out of the way. With much struggle and little victory, he conceded and softly put his palm to the back of her head, sleepily pulling her in closer to him as their lips struggled to find one another in the sleepy haze. And as fast as the tired lust had found them, it abandoned them. Their kisses slowed and were replaced by mumbled I-love-you’s and the sound of settling heart beats. The light of the moon and the sound of cicadas and crickets danced through the window and the sleeping couple lay in each others arms.

* * *

Yennefer opened her eyes to a dark bedroom. Beyond the window, a mist hung in the trees and a faint blue glow signaled dawn’s fast approach. The gold threads of the duvet shone softly against the deep red of the cover and Yennefer sat up slowly, her eyes flicking down to Geralt’s sleeping form as she moved. She walked quietly to the washroom and began to ready herself for the day.

Geralt woke to the sight of Yennefer in front of the mirror. Her curly hair wrapped in a bun, he watched as she replaced her black night-slip with a long black and white velvet and satin gown.

“Yen?” he grumbled. She smiled at him in the mirror and walked across the room to sit on the bed, placing his hand in hers.

“I’ll be back shortly, I’m going out to watch the sunrise,” she bent down to kiss his forehead, squeezing his hands in her own. Geralt mumbled an unintelligible reply, his hands squeezing hers in response before he brought her fingers to his lips to kiss them. They released each other’s hands and Yennefer brought the edge of the red blanket further up Geralt’s body, shielding him from the wet and cold morning air.

The front door creaked as she quietly closed it behind her, the cool metal of the handle chilling her hands. Through the chill of the sunless morn, cloth bag in hand, she began her walk to the small river. A rooster crowed somewhere in the distance and Yennefer could hear the sound of small birds fluttering in the trees. The rough sound of gravel and dirt under her boot softened as she made her way to the cool grass, damp from the morning dew. Yennefer removed her boots, placing each foot against the wet ground and continued to the river. As she made her way up the small hill, its noise grew louder, its bubbles and gurgles soft as a cooing child. She knelt down at its edge and removed from her bag a set of jars. Dipping each of the jars in the river and filling them, her fingers returned from the water, pink and stiff from the cold. She placed a cork in each of the jars and wrapped them in a heavy dark cloth before setting them back in her bag. Yennefer continued to the top of the hill. The mist was beginning to dissipate as the light of the sun painted the sky pink and yellow and the morning star shone brightly across the horizon. Yennefer sat in the wet grass, her thick dress shielding her from its cold. She removed a jar of river water from her bag and moved it to sit out in front of her. Taking a deep breath, the scent of flowers hanging in the air, the brook babbling a short way behind her, Yennefer closed her eyes and waited for the light and heat of the first rays of the summer sun.

Geralt made his way up the hill, following the scent of her perfume, until his eyes found her, bathed in morning sunlight, a jar in front of her glowing with a faint gold light. Tiny flecks, like swimming webs swayed in the jar and through the webs danced beams of gold. Careful not to disturb Yennefer or the bag of jars, Geralt knelt down beside her. Yennefer sneaked a quick glance at him as he knelt down, his irises replicas of the gold light swimming in the jar in front of them. And when he met her eyes and smiled, she saw sun beams. Yennefer closed her eyes once more and Geralt mimicked. Thin cold fingers reached out to interlace with his and he smiled to himself quietly as he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. Silencing his thoughts and stilling his actions he closed his eyes and focused only on the sweet smell of lilac and gooseberries.

* * *

The Toussaint market was filled with the scents of honey and bread, citrus and sugar. Children wrapped bright ribbons around trees and the marketplace beamed in the rainbow of light reflected from the many sun-catchers hanging from booths and tree branches.

“So,” Geralt turned to see Yennefer, gold and copper ribbons wound into her hair so that it resembled a crown, small flowers tucked into the braids, “what do you think?” she asked. Geralt smiled,

“It looks very nice,” he reached his hand out to delicately adjust one of the small flowers.

“Are you to be next?” she said taking a lock of his hair in her hand. He smiled and gathered his hair into a ponytail behind his head. 

“I think not.”

“No? The gold would look lovely with your eyes,” he searched her own before his gaze landed on her pouted lips, “and it _is_ Litha.”

“Fine,” he said with a begrudging smile walking off to the stylist.

The scent of citronella, lemon balm, and lavender swam around a booth of brightly dyed candles, all of which held the magnificence of the Toussaint sky, her sunrises and sunsets swirling in wax. Geralt walked toward Yennefer who was leaning over some candles, smelling the bunch before paying for a citronella scented one. She turned to Geralt, his long white hair decorated with a few well placed thin braids and a crown of small flowers.

“Very nice, I like it very much.” She lifted a hand to turn his chin so she could look at both sides. They moved from the candle booth and began to walk down the cobblestone to the next one.

“What are the candles for?” he said nodding at her bag.

“Bugs,” she said with a grimace.

“Worse than necrophages,” he teased with a smile. She playfully slapped his chest and he caught her hand and kissed it before placing it in his own to hold as they walked.

“So what do crowns and Litha have to do with one another?” he asked.

“Well,” she began, “today is the day the Oak King admits his loss to the Holly King. And the Holly King rules over the next portion of the year. The dark half of the year.”

“But isn’t summer when days are the longest?”

“Yes, but after today, the days begin to shorten and eventually, this leads to the autumnal equinox and then the winter solstice. And on the winter solstice, the Oak King wins back power and so begins the light half of the year.”

“I see, so what am I? The Oak King or the Holly King with my crown?” She stopped and turned to look him over, eyes searching until they found his, gold and bright.

“Definitely the Oak King,” she announced. They began walking once more.

“And does the Oak King have a queen?”

“Yes, the Triple Goddess. Maiden, Mother, and Crone. She rules all year.” He pulled her to him and brought both of her hands to his own.

“Then that must be you. A maiden so beautiful, a mother of Ciri, and a crone,” he said with a smile, “how old are you now?” She giggled at his jest, he continued, “my queen and wife, ruler of my heart and the world all year.”

“Oh stop it,” she said with a smile, feigning repulsion, “Dandelion should see you now. He might swoon.”

“Will you?”

“No, I’m much too _old_ to fall for such silly nonsense.” He chuckled and the couple walked hand in hand down the street.

* * *

Geralt walked up the grassy knoll to where Yennefer lay reclined, stretched like a cat on the chaise lounge, the sun on her legs, an umbrella covering the rest of her, a small paper back book in her hands. Near the foot of the chaise lounge sat a jar, about the same size as the one he had seen her with earlier in the morning, the same bursts of gold light and flecks swimming around like seaweed, making little rainbows dance on the grass. Geralt stood in front of her. 

“Yes, Geralt?” she asked warmly, her eyes not moving from the page.

“I brought you some water,” he said setting it on the ground next to her.

“Thank you,” she said her eyes flicking to him for a moment before going back to her book. One hand reached for the glass while she lifted her feet, a silent offering. Geralt accepted and sat down taking a sip of his drink. A dog barked down below, the stream trickled, and Geralt fanned a fly out of his face before the odd jar and it’s swimming gold lights caught his eye, he reached out.

“Don’t touch that please.” Yennefer flipped the page.

“What is it?”

“A jar,” Geralt frowned at her and she gave a cheeky grin, before setting her book down on her lap, “I’m making sun water for Litha.”

“Sun water?”

“Yes. It is believed by some, that sunlight carries with it different energies at different times of the day, and that you can infuse water with those energies by leaving it in the sun. Those who celebrated Litha in the past attempted to collect and create such water, but I believe I have succeeded. It’s a method I’ve come up with, and I’ll need to do some experiments before I dare use it on anything else, but I believe I’ve captured sunlight in a jar. Magically of course.”

“And why today? Why Litha?”

“Well, today is the celebration of the first day of summer. And that of course means it is the longest day of the year. Some believe that today the sun’s energy is at its strongest. So that is why I’ve begun collecting today.”

“Will you collect more?” He asked. She paused for a moment to think,

“Today? Yes. I collected at dawn, it’s now noon, and I’ll set out another for dusk. Other than today? Not until I’ve figured out what to do with the jars I’ve already collected. And anyway,” she lifted her book up from her lap, “today is the longest day of the year but the days will be long from now until the first day of Autumn. So, I’ve time if I wish to collect more.” She leaned back against the lounge and began to read again, bringing the cup of water to her lips every so often. Geralt watched curiously as she flipped another page of her book. He tapped the cover with the back of his fingers.

“You weren’t kidding about shitty two-crown romances. What is this?” She moved the book so he could see the cover. He read the title, “To Leave a Duke Wanting.” Geralt laughed and Yennefer glared, the hint of a smile in her violet eyes, for she could tell he meant no offense.

“You know witcher, I believe there’s a new sign up in town, something about a noon wraith, I believe? At the neighboring vineyard too.”

“Oh yes,” he said, standing up, “send me off so you can have a tryst with your duke.”

“Geralt, darling,” she said still not looking up at him, “I’ve _had_ a tryst with a duke,” Geralt rolled his eyes, “and don’t worry, you’re much more fun.” She was grinning now having lowered her book to look at him. She found herself once again shocked by the amber sunshine in his eyes. He smiled and softly placed his hand on her cheek. 

“I’m glad you think so.” Geralt leaned in to kiss her cheek chastely before turning around to walk down the hill.

“Geralt,” she called out, “are you going to deal with the noon wraith?”

“Yes,” he called out not turning to look at her.

“Please be safe,” Geralt turned around to see her eyes on her book, “your wife waits eagerly for your return.”

* * *

The warm water of the Toussaint coast lapped against the sand at Yennefer’s feet. In the distance people moved about on boats, birds swooped down to catch fish, and the air was pungent with the scent of salty air.

“Oh come on, Geralt. The water is nice.”

“And so is the sun,” he said leaning back against their blanket. Yennefer continued to wade in to the shore.

“Fine,” she replied, the water up to her waist, “I suppose it’s better this way anyway.”

“Oh?” Geralt peeked up at her from where he was laying.

“Yes,” she turned to face him with a smug expression on her face, “if anything comes from the forest, it can eat you before it comes for me,” she said flipping her hair. She feigned a turn, her eyes still stuck on him, a playful grin on her face. He rolled his eyes at her and stood beginning to walk toward her.

“Oh, yes. Now you come to me” she mocked, “has your innate sense of self-preservation, oh!” She shrieked. Geralt, who had forcefully trudged in to the water, swooped her up in to his arms. With giggles and splashing water the couple grappled until Geralt ended the match, pulling her close to him, her wrists in one hand and her waist in his arms.

“How do you know I’m not the monster, come to eat you?” he whispered in her ear, watching the heaving motion of her chest. She turned to smile at him.

“Oh, please," she feigned a beg, "don’t. I’ll do _anything_ to get out of it.” Geralt raised his eyebrows at her response, but soon corrected his expression, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. And then, releasing her, he cursed, pulling his hands away from her as the magical shock tingled through his fingers. Yennefer ran through the water laughing and Geralt smirked, happy to chase her.

* * *

“Dammit Yen, you know I hate it when you do that.” Geralt brushed off his outfit as if the queasy feeling from her surprise portal was a layer of dirt that, when removed, would return his stomach to its natural state. The crickets chirped and the stars shone brightly above them, the marble of the great castle walls reflected the orange glow of the torches.

“Oh shush, it’s not that bad,” she said looking around the corner.

“Why are we here? Annarietta is not going to be pleased if she finds us,” Geralt asked looking at their surroundings.

“Well,” she turned to him, her hand on her hip, “you’re a witcher, I believe it is within your skill set to not be found.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” Geralt pulled the back of her shirt lightly, wrapping her waist in his arms as he pulled them in to the shadows.

“Geralt,” she chastised with a whisper, but her chastisement was cut off by the sound of armored footsteps coming down the hall. The two men and their clinking outfits gleamed against the light of their torches. Geralt silently pointed at the two guards and Yennefer rolled her eyes. The hidden couple waited silently until the clinking echoed down the hall. Yennefer turned to Geralt, eyebrows knit until she saw the set of his jaw, his gold eyes scanning the halls, his arms holding her closer than the moment warranted. She probed lightly in to his thoughts and found that behind the calm annoyance, there was a sense of worry. She reached a small hand to his cheek and his eyes darted to hers.

“Do you remember that time in Skellige? Behind the tapestry?” Geralt smiled, but the smile was quickly replaced with a frown.

“Please tell me we’re not stealing an ancient artifact.” Yennefer laughed quietly and set both hands on his cheeks to kiss him. Geralt smiled and moved to pull away but she drew him in closer and Geralt let her, the hand on her waist pulling her closer, another sneaking in to her hair. Yennefer broke the kiss with a breathy sigh, her hand sliding up to his hair, pulling his forehead to her own.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” she whispered to the air. Geralt moved, his eyes meeting hers.

“Would what?”

“Help me steal an ancient artifact you know nothing about, just because I brought us here to do it.”

“Of course,” he replied, eyebrows knit in confusion. Yennefer smiled and dropped her hands from his face and hair, turning away from him to look in to the hall.

“Well, then you’ll be pleased to know that’s not what we’re here to do. Follow me?” She said with a smile. Geralt smiled at the violet glint in her eyes, the halo of frizzy hair backlit by the orange torchlight

“Anywhere.” She smiled and led him down a corridor, through several halls, and through previously locked doors until she opened a final door leading to a stone balcony. On the floor rested a blanket and an unopened bottle of wine with two gold rimmed glasses next to it.

“What’s this?” he said, walking through the doorway. Yennefer pointed to the sky and Geralt looked up to watch a white zip of light pass through the darkness, and then another, like ripples from a pond, hurdling themselves towards nothingness. Yennefer sat upon the blanket and uncorked it to pour each of them a glass while she waited for Geralt to sit.

“Today, as you know, is Litha. A time to focus on solar power, but, while we focus on the sun, we can also focus on other celestial bodies. And, there was talk of a meteor shower, so I thought I’d set something up for us.” Geralt sipped his wine,

“Why have us go through the halls though? I know you can teleport us up here.” She turned to him with a smile,

“Well, let’s just say I was feeling nostalgic.” Geralt scoffed.

“For that cozy end of the world feeling?”

“No,” she said smiling, “for the feeling of you and me, sneaking through hallways and around corners, kissing under tapestries.” Geralt set his wine glass to the side, and moved himself in to her space, Yennefer leaned back against her outstretched arms as he moved closer.

“If I recall correctly, we ended up in your room at the inn.” Yennefer smiled brightly at his cocky grin. Putting a finger to his chest pushing him away she spoke,

“Yes,” she took a sip of her wine, “but that was only because my gown ripped.” Geralt moved closer and Yennefer leaned farther back, his hand sneaking up the side of her skirt, his hands fingering the fabric.

“I believe that can be arranged.” Yennefer laughed and Geralt smiled, pulling away from her, releasing the fabric.

“I think you’re forgetting about our dear unicorn.” Geralt grimaced and took a big sip of his wine,

“Ugh, how could I forget?” He repositioned himself next to her, his hands behind his head as he lay down to look at night sky. Yennefer settled behind him, moving his head in to her lap so she could stroke his hair.

“You didn’t seem to mind it then,” she reached out to feel him from atop his trousers, “and you don’t seem to mind the memory now.” He playfully swatted her hand away.

“Didn’t we sneak up here to watch the sky?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered. Geralt heard a tearing sound, “although it seems my gown has ripped.” Geralt turned his head to look at Yennefer, a slit torn up the side of her dark skirt and a proud grin on her face. Geralt smiled and turned around to crawl over her. His hand moved to pull the skirt down her thighs as he watched Yennefer wave at the heavy door behind them, the great lock shutting tight. 

“I see. I guess you’ll have to enchant a needle.” She kicked the skirt down toward her feet with a grin and a giggle as Geralt kissed her.

“I thought we were here to watch the sky?” she teased.

“And here I thought you were enjoying reminiscing.” Geralt pulled away and moved to help her place her skirt back around her hips.

“Geralt? I was joking,” she began. He laughed and sat against the wall, pulling her into his lap.

“I know.”

“I mean we can watch if you’d like, but I,” he interrupted her, his hands pulling her skirt up around her hips so he could rest his fingers on her thighs. He gave her cheek a chaste kiss,

“I think we can do both,” he said, one hand sneaking further down, the other sneaking under her shirt. The sky shone bright with the racing lights, and bright stars, the crickets chirped. Geralt’s head swam with the scent of lilac and gooseberry, the sound of Yennefer’s soft cries, and the feeling of her warm skin against his hands.


	5. Lughnasadh

Geralt woke with a start, his eyes opening to the dark and early morning behind the window. His gaze settled on Yennefer’s sleeping form, her tightly braided hair frizzing at her crown. Geralt reached out to run a finger over her cheek and she made a small murmur of a noise, her hand coming up to brush up against his. Her wedding ring glinted in the dim light of the room and Geralt’s heart began to thump in his chest at the sight. He smiled warmly as her fingers began curling around his own. Leaving her with a small kiss on her forehead and the red blanket tucked up around her shoulders, he made his way to the washroom. Geralt ran a hand through his hair and brought the brush to it before settling in to a warm bath.

* * *

Yennefer stirred at the feeling of something soft on her cheek.

“Yen,” spoke a whispered voice. There was another something soft on her cheek, a kiss, she realized, “Yen,” Geralt said. She felt his fingers brush across her forehead to move a curl from her forehead.

“Geralt?” she said tiredly, her eyes flickering awake. She was met with the sight of Geralt leaning over her, smiling sweetly and smelling of soap.

“Good morning,” he replied. Her gaze flicked to the window. The morning sky was still dark and a few stars could be seen, but the dark blue of the east sky was beginning to turn a light blue. Geralt had lit one of the candelabras in the room and its orange and yellow light filled the room with a warm glow.

“Morning?” she questioned tiredly.

“Nearly,” he said with a shrug, “come on, I want to take you somewhere, show you something,” he ran a warm hand over her hair, stroking it softly, his thumb coming to a stop on her cheek.

“Where?” she rubbed her eyes and moved to sit up.

“There’s something I want to show you, for Lughnasadh, come on. I’ve got breakfast on the stove, dress in something warm, and a pair of good walking boots,” he gave her one more kiss on the cheek before removing himself from the bed and leaving the room.

“Walking boots?” she asked the air.

* * *

Down the dirt path they walked, Geralt’s eyes on the horizon.

“So where exactly are you taking me?” She had done as he suggested, wearing her long pants and walking boots, but had wrapped one of his coats around her shoulders. The curls that had escaped from her braid hung around her face and his heart swelled in his chest at the sight of her.

“Well,” he started, “I did some research, asked some questions, and I wanted to take you somewhere.”

“I’ve gathered that,” she said with a hint of a smirk on her lips as they continued down the path.

“I don’t want to spoil the surprise, Yen.”

“It’d better be worth it witcher. I woke up too damn early for it not to be.”

“What?” he teased, “you woke up early for most of the other sabbats.”

“Yes,” she conceded.

“And we’ve been up most mornings,” she turned to him with a playful glare in her eye.

“Yes, but you’ll recall that we were in _bed_.” He chuckled and drew her closer, wrapping his hand around her waist as they walked. Down the path they continued for a short while longer, their boots crunching against the dirt, dust coating the bottom of their pants until the well walked path slowly began to morph in to animal trails.

“Alright, we’re almost there, just around this corner.” He took her hand lightly and guided her to where he wanted her to stand.

“Oh Geralt, it’s,” she paused, “it’s beautiful.” The lands looked as though they had been painted in gold. Sheaves of wheat drooped heavy and fluffy, the sun was slowly coming up the horizon spraying gold and yellow across the fields, its rays warm and made of amber. A couple of birds fluttered from the wheat. Geralt ran his eyes over her look of awe and, to his surprise, a slow blush crawled up his neck.

“I umm,” he began walking toward her, slowly, awkwardly, “I read about Lughnasadh. And well, like I said, I talked to some people, scouted the area, and I thought you might like to see this before the harvest begins later today.” She turned to face him, her eyebrows lifted. 

“You went out and picked this for me? For Lughnasadh?”

“Well,” he said with a smirk, “don’t get too excited, I read about Mabon too. Want to make sure you continue with the sabbats,” she laughed and he chuckled with her, “but, ya. I,” his words stumbled their way out of his mouth, “I wanted you to know, just,” he grabbed her hands and began playing with her fingers, his eyes anywhere but hers. A smirk was beginning to crawl up her features as the famed Geralt of Rivia fumbled for the right words, “I’m, I” he finally turned to look at her and found, once again, she was radiant. Violet eyes that he had seen scowl, smile, and cry; tiny wrists and hands and thin fingers that he had seen turn enemies in to ash and his own resolve in to putty; lips that held words of magic, that kept secrets, that kissed his scars, that smiled wondrously; dark curly hair that smelled of her lavender soap when he buried his nose in it to hide his eyes from the rising sun.

“I adore you, Yen. I’d hand you the world on a platter if only I could.” With a small smile, Yennefer brought her hands to his cheeks and bestowed one single kiss on the bridge of his nose.

“And I you, Geralt.” She nestled up in his arms and he held her tight and together, they watched the sun as it made its journey above the horizon and listened as the wind whistled through the wheat.

* * *

The dirt road had changed from dusty brown to golden as the sunlight washed it in its rays, Yennefer and Geralt walked hand in hand down the path, back to their home.

“Oh? And where would you take me, witcher?” she answered his thoughts. He smiled at having been caught.

“Somewhere vacant,” he began, “with a soft bed, feather pillows,” he continued, “satin sheets, and lots and lots and lots of apple juice.” She began to laugh and the sound filled his chest with pride and calm, warmth and comfort, made him want to bury his head in her hair and kiss her until giggles turned to something else, or stayed giggles, he didn’t care. Just smiles and laughter, that’s all he wanted for her.

“And what if I want to go somewhere else?” She said in playful defiance. He pulled her closer to him.

“And where would you want to go?” She brought a finger to her lips, pretending to think.

“Hmm, somewhere small.”

“Okay,” he nodded.

“That smells of bread.”

“Odd, but alright.”

“That serves cold chamomile and honey tea.”

“Sure,” he nodded, “we can go to a tavern, get a room.”

“No, no,” she corrected, “it’s a bit crowded.”

“I don’t really enjoy onlookers, but I guess anything is better than the unicorn.” And once again she laughed.

“You want to try one more time?” she asked as they stopped in front of the door to their home. He turned and grabbed both of her hands in his.

“I would love to take you to the bakery for lunch.”

“For breakfast,” she corrected.

“No, no. I’ve already got plans for that,” he said. He let go of her hands and leaned against the door. She narrowed her eyes at him and found herself overwhelmingly charmed when he smiled at her. However, nothing could prepare her for the deep red blush that crept up her neck when her eyes met his. Dark and devilish, he looked like he might devour her. She shook off her surprise and pressed herself up against him before whispering in to his ear,

“For lunch then.”

* * *

“Geralt?” she asked, “what do you think?” He looked up from his book to see Yennefer standing in front of the fireplace. Purple geranium and red poppy petals were strung on fishing line and hung on either side of the fire place, yellow sunflowers potted next to yellow and gold candles.

“It looks great.” She backed up to look at her decorations before bringing a knuckle to her mouth, with a sigh she sat down on the arm of the couch.

“I meant to buy the carved ones but Madame Vanessa,” Yennefer rolled her eyes, “managed to nab them before I could.”

“Carved?”

“Oh yes,” she turned to him placing her bare feet on his lap, “you’ve seen them. They’re sweet, little bees and hives, suns, wheat, you know.”

“Why not do it magically?”

“Well, why not just turn Madame Vanessa into a worm or something? I can’t solve all my problems magically, Geralt,” he scoffed quietly to himself as she stood and began to rearrange the flowers once more.

“Well, why not take them to,” Geralt looked up from his book once more, “what’s his name? The one who sells those soaps you like?” Yennefer turned and made her way to him before she leaned down to tilt the book in his hands.

“What is this?” she asked.

“It’s for a contract, Regis gave it to me,” but he was cut off.

“Oh really? I thought it was a spell to turn your mind into pudding,” she lashed, he cocked an eyebrow and she sank onto his lap with a pout, “Geralt, I can’t take them to the soap shop. She’ll know and, ugh, well it would just irk me and imagine how detestable my company would be then,” Geralt stared at her, one eyebrow still raised, “So,” she continued, “I was rather hoping you would do it. You’re very good.” He smiled.

“Oh? Are you sure you want to give a knife to a man with a brain made of pudding?” He knew she hated asking for favors. And that since they had moved to Toussaint, she had only recently gotten better at asking him for them, but he also felt he had earned this one jest. She rolled her eyes at him and stood, walking to the fireplace to continue rearranging the sunflowers in their vase.

“Fine,” she grumbled, “I’ll go to the shop.” Geralt smiled and set his book on the coffee table before making his way over to her, “Geralt,” she began, but he had already walked out the front door, candles in hand. She followed him outside to where he had moved to sit on the porch. 

“You’ve decided to carve them?” she asked. He scoffed and looked up at her quickly before bringing his eyes back down to the work at hand.

“I was tempted to see how long you’d spend rearranging those sunflowers,” he said with a smirk, “but decided against it.” She smiled and sat down next to him, setting her bare feet on his lap.

“I meant it when I said you’re good. You are rather talented you know.” A small sunflower was beginning to take form on the wax, his eyes stayed glued on the candle.

“Hmm,” he said with a grin, “maybe in another life I would’ve been an artist,” he chuckled to himself and Yennefer moved to resettle herself behind him so that her chin rested on his shoulder as she watched him work.

“Maybe in this life?” he was quiet and she began to play with his hair, “we’ve got enough life to live, many years to go, maybe you can retire some of your old names.”

“Geralt, the Butcher of Blaviken becomes Geralt, the Carver of Candles?” he asked with a smile.

“The Whittler of Wicks?” she offered, he chuckled and turned to kiss her cheek.

“You just want me to help you one up Madame Vanessa.”

“Guilty,” she said with a sigh, leaning back against the cushions, “you are talented though,” Geralt continued to carve the petals, “maybe you could sell? You could carve staffs, jewelry boxes,” he interrupted her,

“Oh yes, and embroider butterflies on caps for old women too. No,” he finished with the petals and began to work on smaller ones around the larger sunflower, “I think I’ll stick to fighting monsters, and carving candles when my wife asks me.” She stood and moved to stand in front of him and kiss his head.

“Thank you my darling,” she pulled back, “I was thinking of having Vanessa over for tea around 11 this morning? Think you’ll be done? Although, no rush, if she sees you carving the candles, might be better,” Geralt realized he had lost her, “or perhaps she and I shall have tea outside, you can just happen to have come back from a swim,” he opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off, “don’t think I’m above throwing something of yours in to the stream for you to retrieve, I’m not. I have plans to make and I need to start the bread and tea,” she gave him another kiss and hurried into the house. Geralt smiled appreciatively and set one candle down so he could work on the next one.

* * *

“Shit!” Yennefer’s voice rang out through the kitchen walls. Geralt jolted, his foot nearly flipping over the table of carved candles before he caught it with his hand and stood.

“Yen?” he said making his way in to the house. Despite its position in the sun, the house was quite cool in the early afternoon, drops of sunlight pooled on the floor where it managed to sneak in through the windows. Atop the dining room table sat a folded up cream crocheted table-cover that looked to have little yellow and orange flowers on it. Next to it was a pitcher and an empty platter ornately decorated in gold and silver suns and moons.

“Damn stove!” Geralt heard the vibrating clang of boot meeting stove.

“Yen?” Geralt made his way in to the kitchen and stifled a laugh. Yennefer was covered in flour, the sideboard was covered in flour, the stovetop was covered in flour, but on the countertop was a beautifully golden loaf of bread. Its egg-wash shone and little pieces of salt decorated the finely braided sides. The braids were crooked and the little sheaves of wheat looked to be more like runes, but he smiled all the same. Yennefer looked up at him with a scowl on her face, her eyes glowing violet. She held her finger in her hand, her eyebrows furrowed, hair suddenly wild, curls busting from her wrapped braids.

“Burned myself.” She said with a tight scowl, Geralt walked to her with a smile.

“Come here, let me see it.” She rolled her eyes and he gently grabbed her arm. 

“Geralt, I’m fine.”

“I know, just let me see.”

“Geralt, I’m fine, it’ll just take a little bit of healing, I’m fine.” The burn was not bad and with a glow of her necklace he watched as it began to heal and her face began to soothe at the loss of pain, when the skin had finished healing she looked at him and sighed.

“How’s the stove?” he said with a smirk. She glared at him playfully.

“The _stove_ is also fine,” she looked at the mess of flour around her, “although I can’t say the same for the kitchen. Ah well, it’ll take just a minute to clean.” And with the snap of her fingers and the glow of her necklace the kitchen began to right itself.

“Looks good,” he said, his hands reaching for the bread. She swatted them.

“Thank you, I worked very hard on it, and it’s not for you. That one however,” she pointed to another loaf, salted, but not decorated, “is for you,” she made her way in to the dining room, leaving Geralt in the kitchen, “I made two,” she called out. He smiled and made his way to his loaf of bread before breaking off a piece and having a bite. Yennefer came in through the kitchen door, empty pitcher and platter in hand, the tablecloth under her arm. She set them all down on the now clean countertop and began to pour a large jar of tea into the pitcher.

“Well?” she said expectantly, “what do you think? Good? Bad? Do I need to run to the bakery and pay them for their silence?” Geralt laughed.

“It’s good, Yen, very good. You’ve gotten a lot better.”

“I ought to have,” she placed the decorated loaf on the platter, “I’ve been practicing, you know there are very few spells for cooking and baking. I suppose we sorcerers have more important things to do.”

“Maybe you can be the first master baker sorceress. Drop the old names.”

“What, Yennefer of Vengerberg?”

“Ya, Yennefer of Toussaint married to Geralt, the Carver of Candles.” She smiled at him and gave him a small kiss.

“And they lived happily ever after?” she asked

“They did,” he replied. Geralt took a bite of bread, “why all the baking?”

“I thought you said you looked up Lughnasadh?”

“Yes, but you said something about Vanessa coming over?”

“Yes, there’s a contest today that Vanessa and I plan to win. Madame Geneviève is competing and we want to beat her.”

“You’re working _with_ her?”

“Yes, Madame Geneviève came up to both me and Vanessa to offer Vanessa some marital advice.”

“Marital advice?” Geralt had taken his seat on the kitchen stool.

“Yes, she had heard of Vanessa’s issues with her husband,” Geralt’s face fell flat.

“You mean the dress? That you bought?”

“Yes Geralt, don’t interrupt, anyway she finishes up with that and decides to invite us to a small tea party, and well, we dress up, go, and she stands us up.”

“What?”

“Yes, we show up and a courier comes to tell us that the party has been cancelled and that Madame Geneviève is sorry for the late notice. Well, no harm no foul, I have bigger fish to fry, but then on the way back, we see the whole lot of canaries making their way out of the tea house. We were both livid at the dismissal, I more than her I think. Vanessa wanted to run away so they didn’t spot us and I told her to stop being a ninny, so we walk up to the crowd and Geneviève is flabbergasted that we did, I stop and ask her about the weather and make a comment about her gown and about Fierro, who made a pass at me a while back, and then, well, insults were hurled, but anyway, there’s a friendly baking competition that Vanessa and I plan to win.”

“Her husband made a pass at you?”

“No dearest, Edgar is her husband, Fierro is her plaything.”

“Fine, Fierro made a pass at you?”

“I didn’t tell you? Silly little thing he was too, very mousey, and horrendously young. He told me that he had how did he put it? ‘Made contact with the crown jewels of Reginald d’Aubry.’ ”

“And what’d you say?” Yennefer shrugged

“I told him to come by some time when you weren’t home,” Geralt rolled his eyes, “No, I told him thank you but I’m very happily married. He shrugged, told me he had a girlfriend. I told him he ought to be thankful that he has access to one fanny and that he ought not to ask married sorceresses if they’d like to share his bed, especially while he diddles his landlord’s wife. He hasn’t said much since, so I imagine the offer’s been revoked.” Geralt laughed and kissed her cheek. A knock sounded on the door and Yennefer turned, “That’ll be Vanessa, would you be a dear and get the door?” Geralt nodded and turned to move away from her but she stopped him and beckoned him forward before giving him a kiss, “Vanessa and I will be near the stream, I’ve had B.B. set up a table there, if you need me.” He smiled and left the room to answer the door.

“Madame Vanessa, do come in, Yen’s just finishing up a few things.”

“Oh please,” Yennefer heard from the other room, “call me Nessa.”

* * *

“And what’s that one?” Yennefer pointed at a little bird resting atop one of the branches of a bush. Its chest was red and its wings black, dappled with white spots.

“A male spotted towhee,” he chuckled, “almost looks like you.” Yennefer slapped his arm playfully and he smiled.

“Geralt!” she reprimanded.

“Shh, you’ll scare it away,” he brought a finger up to his smiling mouth and she rolled her eyes but quieted all the same. He brought his pencil down to the paper and marked the sheet of paper they had been given from the Palace Events Manager, “only a few more to go, come on.”

“Should we scare it away?” she whispered, Geralt looked back at her, his expression one of confusion, “to make sure other people can’t mark it off on their papers?” she clarified.

“Yes, you know what,” he whispered, “why don’t you just eviscerate it? Then we’re sure to win.” She rolled her eyes once more.

“It was just a suggestion, and well, it wouldn’t really be scared,” her heels struck the cobblestone with a clicking noise as she made her way to him, her eyes having rested momentarily on the black and white bird, “would it?”

“No,” he said with a smile, “come on.”

“And you know, I don’t look that much like that bird at all, I’d never wear red.” Geralt chuckled. On the vines around them, grapes ripened for harvest in a month’s time. Bushes of blue mist, heather, and hydrangeas guarded each of the vineyards and the sweet smell of mead and freshly baked sweets traveled through the air. The palace gardens had been decorated with bird feeders and baths and its cobblestone walkways were occupied by the townspeople, their spyglasses and their sheet of paper used to mark down the birds they saw.

“Now, I want to know how they can be sure people aren’t cheating,” Yennefer stated as they made their way to the, hopefully, waterfowl filled ponds.

“Well, I suppose they can’t, but that,” Geralt pointed to one of the birds on the paper, “doesn’t exist. And that,” he pointed to another bird, “is native to Skellige, definitely not Toussaint. So anyone who checks it off is obviously lying. And those are just the ones I know, I’d be willing to guess more than a couple of these aren’t from around here or just don’t exist.” They had made their way to the pond and in front of them were birds of all kinds, wood ducks and widgeons, cinnamon teals, loons, and the occasional grebe had all made their way to the palace pond. Geralt spotted and checked wildly and Yennefer made very pleasant and distracting conversation as she discussed the possible sighting of the Geralt-confirmed-nonexistent bird that happened to be opposite the pond and in the section of the garden where the bird watchers had just been. When Geralt finished marking off the birds he made his way to Yennefer who watched the folk she had spoken to walk back up the path.

“I’d tell you it’s wrong to lie to them about the bird, but,” he began. 

“But you know that all is fair in war?” She interrupted.

“No, I was gonna say there’s no use in trying to convince you otherwise. War? Really?”

“Competition, war,” she shrugged, “we play to win, Geralt.” He smiled and leaned in to brush his lips on her dark hair, his hand coming up to the back of her head to pull her in a little closer. He could vaguely remember a time when he had been worried that retirement, settling down, a life without constant action and change would pull them apart. He chuckled at his own ridiculousness.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said with a smile. 

* * *

Corvo Bianco had settled into quiet contentedness. Yennefer and Geralt slept in each other’s arms, Yennefer’s new baking set rested on the dining room table, Geralt’s book lay quietly with its bookmark nestled between the sheets of paper, the tiny, painted, porcelain first prize peacock sat on Geralt’s bed side table, and the sun had made its way under the blanket of hills so that the starry sky of Toussaint could shine its light on the castle, homes, and vineyards below. 


End file.
